XOXO, Kristen
by GingerxSnap
Summary: Oh. My. Gawd. I sat, stunned, on my bed. My mind wasn't comprehending, and I'm sure my face showed it. My mom smiled a tight, smug grin and turned toward the door. "Start packing, Kristen. You start Friday." Rated T just to be safe. Read & Review!
1. Beginnings

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Clique or any of it's characters. I own my original additions and my plotline.

**Apartment 28**

**Kristen's Bedroom**

**Tuesday, January 11**

**6:39 P.M.**

Oh. My. Gawd.

I sat, stunned, on my bed. My mind wasn't comprehending, and I'm sure my face showed it. My mom smiled a tight, smug smile and turned towards the door.

"Start packing, Kristen. You start Friday."

**Somewhere in Westchester County**

**Gregory Mini Van**

**Friday, January 14**

**7:52 A.M.**

I pulled at the itchy wool skirt that was a mandatory part of the St. Mary-Anne Catholic School uniform. SMACS. How fitting.

The whole cliché schoolgirl thing was more than a bit corny. Black Mary-Janes, white socks that hit just below the knee. A plaid white button-down and a frumpy, knee-length, red and white plaid skirt. My psychotic mother was more than pleased.

That morning I had woken up at 5:15—almost an hour before my alarm was set—and experienced a mini-meltdown. I desperately texted Massie's cell, despite the clock's reading.

**Kristen: massie?**

**Kristen: mass?!**

**Kristen: gawd, mass, pick UP!!**

It took a few minutes for my hand-me-down phone to ding with a response.

**Massie: kris, wtf? the freakin sun is still asleep.**

I quickly panic-texted a reply.

**Kristen: i can't do it, mass. i just can't.**

**Massie: calm down. breathe in, breathe out, all that jazz**

**Kristen: now's not the time for meditation!! i'm being sent to some boarding skool w/ rly tacky uniforms!!**

**Massie: stay strong. remember, mani-pedis at 5 :)**

I sighed. It was just like Massie to think nail polish and gossip could make everything better.

The annoying click of our station wagon's turn signal brought me out of my fond reverie. We pulled into the parking lot of a large, pristine-looking red brick campus, complete with winding ivy vines and wrought iron gates. I stumbled out of the car, still gaping, probably looking like an idiot—not that it mattered. School had started nearly a half-hour ago, and most of the student body was inside those rustic walls, learning about things only AP covered in BOCD. And of course learning about Jesus, too.

That was what had justified my mom transferring me—the curriculum. And Jesus. (Truth is, she's been pining to get me in a convent since she saw me sneaking out wearing Massie's slinky DKNY mini dress to Skye Hamilton's New Year's Eve party. I guess a Co-Ed Catholic school was as close as she could get.) SMACS was one of the top schools in the state, ranking even above BOCD. And even though I felt like a filthy Benedict Arnold for owning up to it, I was kind of excited.

But even my enthusiasm for learning (Gawd, I'm such a nerd) couldn't make up for the fact that I was leaving behind my life—my team, my school, my _friends_. I was stuck in this nightmarish prep school one hundred six hours a week, each and every week up till summer, with only a week of reprieve thanks to a great and wondrous thing known as _spring break._ And I had weekends.

But before I could get to my glorious Westchester Mall nail salon, I had to make it through a long and painful day. I glanced at my practical silver watch. 8:08. Only four hundred forty-two minutes to go.

**St. Mary-Anne's Catholic School**

**Administrative Office**

**Friday, January 14**

**8:09 A.M.**

I was seated on a lightly cushioned gray chair, located in a far back corner, as far from human contact as possible. My mom put on a polite smile and went to talk with the receptionist. I glanced up from my Us Weekly and sighed for the millionth time that morning. With nothing better to do, I studied my surroundings. I was the sole student in the office, which was pretty much deserted save for a few secretaries sitting behind neat and organized desks. I was about to curl back up and read about Britney's latest scandal when I heard a few muffled noises break the quiet murmur within the room.

"…and if you pull any of this ever again, oooh, you'll be sorry, Mr. Hayle, and don't say I didn't warn you, you juvenile little deliquent!" A rather large women clothed in the black-and-white garb of a nun came huffing into the office.

"What seems to be the problem_ this_ time, Sister Agatha?" the blonde secretary asked in a rather bored, slightly annoyed tone.

"This—this—_hooligan _was vandalizing my _personal property_, and during class hours, no less! I'm telling you, Ms. Finnegan, this tyrant needs disciplining, that of the utmost severity!"

As completely _terrifying_ as Sister Agatha's rant was, I couldn't help but giggle at her rubescent face, contorted in rage, and frizzy gray hair peeking out from under her off-kilter hat. Sister Agatha seemed too infuriated to notice my laugh, but it didn't go completely unnoticed. The aforementioned "hooligan", who had a relaxed, playful grin on his face throughout the whole episode, turned towards my secluded corner and looked straight at me. And I could've sworn I saw his smile get a little bigger.

Feeling heat creep up my neck, I quickly returned to my magazine, no longer reading the text, which seemed nothing more than dashes and curves in some foreign tongue.

Backing away quietly from the madness of Sister Agatha's venting monologue, juvenile-dude came and sat down in the seat adjacent to mine. He leaned towards me and smiled again.

"It might help," he murmured, "if you read it right side up." He took my magazine and inverted it. The foreign marks I had seen earlier suddenly became an exclusive article on Britney Spears's drug scandal. I know, I know. _Smooth. _

"Yeah… p-probably a good idea," I stuttered like an idiot with a speech impediment, a sheepish smile on my face.

"Andrew Hayle, by the way," he said, sticking out his hand. "And you are?"

"Kristen. Kristen Gregory." I smiled again and grasped his outstretched hand. Our eyes locked for a second before I released his grip. He casually shook his long shaggy chocolate hair, which fell adorably across his boyish face. His lips were parted into what seemed a permanent grin, and his honey-gold eyes, so similar in shade to Massie's, twinkled with a happiness that Massie's just didn't have. I instantly felt more comfortable.

But my relaxed moment was soon interrupted by Sister Agatha, who seemed to notice Andrew's absence for the first time since he'd left.

"Young man, what are you doing? I'm not finished with you!"

"Just welcoming our newest student, Sister Agatha." Andrew said suavely.

The blonde secretary glanced my way as if she suddenly remembered my existence. "Oh, yes, yes… Ms. Gregory, is it? Yes, well, you seem to be all set with your registration. Here's your schedule and a map of the campus, along with your locker information. I'd get you a student ambassador to guide you but I'm afraid all of our welcome committee are engaged in their classes at the time, so I trust you'll find your way on your own—"

Blondie was cut off by Andrew, who walked up to the desk. "Well, Ms. Finnegan, I wouldn't want a new student to get lost on her first day! The campus is pretty big, after all. I could show her around. Ah, but I'd need a pass for second hour and of course, to be excused from my first hour absence?" The end of his offer turned into a question, and he looked at Ms. Finnegan with the look of a five-year-old caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Her stern expression turned into a small smile and she shook her head.

"Fine," she said submissively, "but this is your one freebie, got it?"

"Yes, of course," Andrew said, obviously relieved. "You're the best, Ms. Finnegan. And you're a close second, Sister Agatha." I smiled at his subtle sarcasm and at Sister Agatha's confused and suspicious expression. Andrew snatched his freshly written pass and turned to the door. He opened it and gestured extravagantly towards the hallway.

"After you, milady."

**Ahh, my first Clique FanFic. Love it? Hate it? Tell me whatcha think. Reviews are super duper fantabulous!!! =)**


	2. First Impressions

Infinite thanks to my first reviewers: I 3 Andrew Hayle and TvADDICT10. Hope all of you enjoy this next chapter!

****

**SMACS**

**Mason Wing Hallway**

**January 14, Friday**

**8:24 A.M.**

I hitched my duffel bag over my shoulder and gave a quick farewell to my mother, whose hawk eyes were glaring suspiciously at my escort. My lips twitched at the corners as I turned away. A small victory in this war.

I walked out the door and Andrew followed. The second the door clicked shut Andrew laughed out of relief.

"I owe ya, Kris. Ol' Agatha seems to think I've been, oh, _misbehaving, _or some other ridiculous fallacy. I mean _me? Acting out? _Never."

I gave a small eye roll, but grinned nonetheless. "What'd you do to her, anyway?"

"I was just feeding the birds… with some week-old sandwich I found in my locker. On Sister Agatha's car. But I figured she'd appreciate the beauty of the pigeons… and whatever they decided to leave behind." He smiled, reminiscing.

"Gross! Nice work."

He gave a mock bow as we continued down the hall.

"So… where are you taking me, anyway?" I asked, trying to take note of the route.

"The girls' dormitory. It's over this way—you wanna go down this hallway until you see the big sign that says 'Girls' Dormitory.'"

"Oh wow. Never coulda figured _that _out."

"That's why I'm here."

We walked a bit farther until coming across a beige sign with flowery text: Mason Wing, Girls' Dormitory.

"Here we are," Andrew said, pulling open one of the doors in the double door entrance.

The doors opened to a sort of shared living area, a common room, if you will. The floors were a light tile, with a few scattered area rugs in red and white. Banners hung from the bright white walls, displaying the emblem of a rearing red steed on a white backdrop, surrounded by a border of red. Various hand-drawn posters were splayed on the walls, all with messages like "Go Stallions!" or "We're #1!" Neutral couches and light coffee tables were placed beside floor lamps, and with one or two red beanbag chairs. Two staircases, banisters draped with red and white streamers, led up towards a second floor of dorm rooms, in addition to more or less a dozen on the ground floor.

"…wow."

"Yeah. Lotsa school spirit and all that here. Kind of annoying, if you ask me. You probably came at the worst time, too—what with soccer finals are right around the corner. Now, strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to enter the girls' dorm, and one more strike and I'll be stuck picking up trash on Interstate 12 this weekend… but the different dorm rooms are numbered. If you have trouble counting past twenty, I'll be in the hall."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll just be a minute," I replied, and ventured further into the room.

"Room 29." I read quietly to myself. I walked over to the various hallways with doors lining each side. I looked around awhile before coming across my destination. I fished my key out of the welcome package I'd been given and unlocked the door. I stepped through the door and into my new home.

**SMACS**

**Mason Wing, Dorm 29**

**January 14, Friday**

**8:40 A.M. **

I dropped my duffel bag and stared at the room.

"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered. And with good reason.

The room was divided starkly in two halves. On the left was a twin mattress draped in a petal pink duvet with two matching pillows. On the floor was a bright pink shag rug and a white nightstand, covered in stickers, most of which were smiley faces or flowers and slightly disintegrated. The desk on this side was a matching white, with a pink desk lamp and several glitter pens scattered around. A few pop CDs were strewn about. I glanced at the titles—typical mainstream. Two Jonas Brothers posters were tacked to the wall, one displaying all three smiley pop stars and the other a close up of Nick. A few random clothing articles were scattered on the floor, most embroidered with a tiny moose or seagull, but everything was relatively in order. I was staring at the epitome of a fourteen-year-old girl's bedroom.

And then there was the right.

This half also had a twin mattress and a desk. But the similarities ended there.

The bed had a charcoal bedspread wadded up on the far side of the matress. The wall was completely covered with a collage of band posters. Slipknot. Hollywood Undead. Disturbed. Bands that _Griffin _would listen to. The desk, although probably white originally, was covered in tattoo-esque patterns scribbled in black and blue pen, snaking up the legs and unfurling across the surface. A romantic gothic script spelled out the name "MADISON" in all capitals, with heavy flourishing that would make John Hancock proud.

It was something my mom would burn. I loved it.

Beside the desk was a bookshelf that took the place of a nightstand, piled with more than two dozen spiral bound notebooks, all of varying neon hues, most worn but a couple new. Next to the stack was a CD-alarm clock. Curious, I pressed the dull pewter PLAY button.

A familiar blare shot from the speakers. I listened and tried to place the song.

"…Barbarisms by Barbara,

With pointed heels.

Victorious, victories kneel,

For brand new spankin' deeeals.

Marching forward hypocritic and hypnotic computers…"

I nodded my head to the beat despite myself. System of a Down had been one of Griffin's favorite bands. Was it really my fault if a bit of him rubbed off on me?

I returned to the CD player's controls. My finger hovered over the OFF button when I heard an angry voice from behind me.

"What the hell are you doing?"

***

I tapped the off button and spun around. The offended was charging towards me, but like a deer in the headlights, I stood still, with round, frightened eyes.

"Yeah, I mean you, Bambi," she said spitefully. I blinked a couple times and stuttered out a response.

"Oh.. w-well I-I… I was j-just…"

"J-j-j-just looking through my stuff? God, I come to my dorm for a freaking tampon and some brat with a speech impediment is fondling my _property_…"

My sheepish expression hardened.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah? You wanna say something? Got some kinda justification for being here? Hmm? Do you even _go _here?"

"Would I wear this hideous polyester-wool blend nightmare if I didn't?" I responded, tugging at my skirt. She just cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're from BOCD, aren't you?"

"Yeah… how'd you know, stalker?"

"Oh, _please_, that place pumps out more airheads than Perfetti Van Melle. I mean, how'd you even get accepted here? Daddy spring a couple grand to get some rehab for his precious little princess?"

"'Daddy' didn't pay a cent. I got here on a scholarship."

Madison, I'm assuming, blinked and seemed to recoil a tad. I took advantage of the silence and stormed out the room.

**SMACS**

**Mason Wing Hallway**

**Friday, January 14**

**8:58 A.M.**

Andrew was waiting at the entrance of the girls' dorm, leaning against the wall, half-asleep. When he heard the door slam behind me he started, and seeing me, walked over, rubbing his neck.

"Whatever happened to 'I'll just be a minute'? Did you get lost or something? I mean, it takes some serious talent to get lost in_ these_ dorms…"

I crossed my arms and answered with a subtle glare.

"Okay, okay, just a joke, relax. Seriously, what kept you?"

"My roommate."

****

Aha this one was fun to write. So... like it? Hate it? Any opinion at all? Reviews rock my socks!! :c)


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